


The Half-Harley Household

by rezi



Category: Hiveswap, Homestuck
Genre: Domestic, Family, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Internet, Loneliness, Nineties, Pizza, Webrings, apparently I'm the first person to tag a fic with 'webrings', controversial pineapple on pizza headcanons, first part's a bit of a downer (but with silliness), it's niche but it's MY niche dammit, not-quite-functional family, pineapple, second half is happier overall, why isn't there more fanfic involving mid-90s internet communities
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-04 02:19:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13354425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rezi/pseuds/rezi
Summary: Life in the Half-Harley household, focusing on (my beloved daughter) Joey Claire.Part 1:A boozing babysitter and a baffling brother. They're Joey's closest friends... though with Joey's "social circle" as empty as it is, that's sadly not saying much. She's never really understood Jude, and her babysitter's getting more distant than ever -- and she's not sure what can be done with either problem.But hey, at least they've mastered the art of sharing Hawaiian pizza. In the end, isn't that what really matters?Part 2 (not yet published):It's the mid-Nineties, the height of human technology, and isn't the World Wide Web wonderful? All you need is a crappy dial-up connection, and you can find poorly-designed websites on damn near any subject imaginable!And sometimes... sometimes you can find people like you. Sometimes, you can find hope.





	The Half-Harley Household

Your family has perfected the pizza night routine. One extra large Hawaiian pizza, to share between the three of you. Jude picks off all the pineapple on his, then passes it to you; you use it to load your pizza with as much pineapple as it can hold. He picks off all the ham too; once he's done gnawing at his final cheesy slice, he leaves to feed the ham to his pet. You eat your own pizza, ham and double pineapple, but make sure to break off the crusts for your babysitter, who likes dipping them in the little tubs of BBQ sauce.

You've just finished the final nibble on your crustless piece of pizza, which means your role in the pizza ritual has almost been played to its conclusion. Just one more step to go...

You pick up the box you were eating it from and tentatively lift it towards the table -- there, there's a spot you can put it that _probably_ won't slide the takeout pile onto the floor. You gingerly place the box on the pile -- bring your hands away -- wait for a second -- yep, that's safe! Not a single box tipped over the edge of the table. Nary a carton spilled. You celebrate internally, thank Jenga for teaching you this important life skill, and remind yourself not to tap-dance in the kitchen any time soon. No cataclysmic takeout landslides here, thank you very much.

Your babysitter acknowledges your skills with a knowing nod. "You go, Jo."

You smile back at her, and settle back into your chair. You've eaten your meal and cleaned up -- to the extent that any of you actually clean up -- so you're well within your rights to head back up to your room (as Jude has, and who knows what he's up to now). You get the feeling, though, that your babysitter would like you to stick around. She's sipping from a mug in between bites of pizza crust, and she's staring into that mug in the way that informs you she's verging on the sad kind of drunk. 

You don't really know what to say. It's that weird time of night, when your 10pm dinner's reached its conclusion, when any sober parent should have sent you to bed but your barely-adult babysitter just lets you do what you want.

"See you tomorrow, Joey," she slurs.

The time when you leave her alone for the night, and she stumbles off into Pa's wine cellar for a quick drink before she goes home. She tries to cover her tracks, but you're not stupid -- the signs of her stagger of shame are clear enough regardless. 

This time last year, she only risked it once or twice a month. Now, she does so more often than not.

"Roxy," you say, and she knows it's serious (she's always been 'Miss Lalonde' to you, at Pa's behest). It's not 'Roxanne' levels of serious, though. Maybe it should have been? Either way, there's something you want to say to her, and you really don't know how to say it.

She looks at you as you fail to speak, her head not quite managing to hold itself upright.

You think you've almost got the courage, but then she says "yeah?" to break the silence and suddenly you're back to the beginning. 

The thing you do manage to say is, "Do you want to see my wizard ballet routine?"

"Shit yeah I do!" She realises she swore and makes a half-hearted attempt to cover her mouth, but you don't mind. You've seen worse on the Web.

"Okay! Let me get my ballet shoes from upstairs..." You dash out the kitchen door, endeavouring not to get distracted by any sexy lady lamps on the way.

You're fairly sure you left your ballet slippers in your room. You think you know _where_ , too, so fetching them should just be a matter of opening the door, entering the room, and--

Running into a tripwire, which fires a water gun directly into your face, and turning around to see your brother pointing a dart gun in your direction.

"Jude, what the heck?" This isn't the first time you've been caught by one of his tripwires, but it's the first time it's happened _in your own room._

He lowers the dart gun. "Joey. Good. Need to tell you something. Had to make sure it was you," he says, kneeling down to dismantle the tripwire with his free hand.

"And if it wasn't me...?" you ask, out of morbid curiosity.

He turns away from the tripwire for a moment, in order to heft his dart gun menacingly.

You sigh. "What's so important that you set a tripwire in my room?"

"Webrings updated today. Cryptid webring has confirmed a new sighting in our area. Reading the update is mission critical." He pauses. "Also, new 'site on your dance webring. Not mission critical. Haven't read it. Just thought you'd want to know."

Well, the latter bit of that was considerate, at least. And... you guess the former, too -- just in Jude's own way. Regardless: "Really? That's all you wanted to tell me?"

"Can never be too careful." He finishes dismantling the tripwire, and takes the wire and water gun with him as he slinks back into his room.

Dammit, Jude.

You shake your head, both at your brother's antics and to get some of the water out of your hair. Fortunately, your ballet shoes are exactly where you thought they were, and so it doesn't take you long to grab them, put them on, and bound back into the kitchen.

"Joey!" your babysitter cries as you re-enter. "What happened to your hair?"

"Jude," you say; it explains everything. "Are you ready for the Twirlin' Merlin?"

"Heck yes!"

"Okay! Dance time!" You go on demi-pointe, doing your best to ignore that familiar little flare of ankle pain, and begin.

Jude and your Pa have never really cared about your dancing, even though Pa's the one paying for your lessons. Your babysitter's always loved it, though, and she claps and cheers you on as you twirl around the kitchen floor. You meet her encouragement with a grin, and show off a little extra just for her.

When you've finished, she's jumped up from her seat and is giving you a standing ovation. It looks like she didn't touch her drink throughout. You didn't get to tell her what you wanted to say, but you achieved that, at least.

"Oh my god! Joey, I loved it! That bit where you swooshed your arms to the side, was that _magic?_ "

You nod, grinning.

"Oh, Joey, you're a star, you really are! C'mere!" You skip up in front of her and she smooshes you in a big, loving hug -- you hold onto her as tightly as you can.

The two of you separate, and it's silence once again. The joy of your performance is fading. You'd hoped to break the ice with that, but now, again... you don't know what to say.

"I'm not usually up this late," you say. "I guess now is the time you go home, isn't it?" Your eyes can't help wandering to the basement door, where you _know_ she usually goes.

She's silent for a while, her eyes looking downwards and not meeting your own.

"Yeah. It is." Your babysitter takes a deep breath in and out, her own gaze straying somewhat to the basement door but being pulled away. "I'll see you tomorrow, Joey darling." She gives you a wobbly smile, lifts up her bag from the floor and turns to leave -- all too quickly.

"Bye," you say, from the opposite side of the room.

"Bye."

You wonder if it'll ever get said.

You shuffle to the kitchen door, and there she is across the hall, leaving through the grand double doors. She looks back briefly, sees you, gives a quick and weak smile, and she's gone.

**Author's Note:**

> The second part of this is pretty much all already written. I _could_ have just released the whole thing as a single one-shot, but I wanna make _a thing_ to accompany the second half. It won't take long, I just won't be able to make it till I get home tomorrow.
> 
> So for now... first half. Cos I'm impatient. And there's a pretty natural scene change here anyway -- chapter 2 is a direct continuation but is pretty damn different both in tone and in subject matter. Hope you're enjoying this so far!


End file.
